Nothing On
by cleverdistraction
Summary: Her name dies on his lips when he sees her, only a staccato before a gasping exhale of breath. She's standing there in his doorway like something out of a dream. All long, bare legs and a beige trench that barely skims mid-thigh. Castle/Beckett.


Nothing On

Rating: M

Summary: Her name dies on his lips when he sees her, only a staccato before a gasping exhale of breath. She's standing there in his doorway like something out of a dream. All long, bare legs and a beige trench that barely skims mid-thigh.

Disclaimer: Absolutely not mine; not the characters, not the show, not anything except the idea for all the things that happen in this fic.

A/N: Rating is serious business. You've been warned. Inspired by the cast shots from earlier this week. All the blame for this fic goes to Vanessa, who is a really wonderful life ruiner.

* * *

He's feeling sorry for himself and he knows it, but can't quite bring himself to snap out of it. He's been able to _feel_ his enthusiasm drop with the temperature as the passing days melt into one of the longest weeks of the year.

He'd helped-well, _tried_ to help-Alexis move into her dorm room almost a month ago. The first few weeks were dotted with excited phone calls, her voice breathless with awe at her new surroundings, but as her classes picked up, the phone calls had dropped off. At this point, he'd be lucky to hear from her by the time the weekend ended.

And Kate-Kate started back at the twelfth this week. So far, it's been a week's worth of long nights, brisk phone calls, and otherwise limited contact-like she's been out to prove something.

To herself or to someone else, he's not sure.

But, damn, he's missed her. Maybe he should just-

_Knock, knock, knock_.

Three times. Loud, crisp, sure.

He rises up too quickly, too eager, and trips over a pair of discarded shoes in his haste to reach the door. He stumbles into the wall, a temporary setback as he skitters across the room to turn the knob.

"Ka-" he tries, but her name dies on his lips when he sees her, only a staccato before a gasping exhale of breath. She's standing there in his doorway like something out of a dream. All long, bare legs and a beige trench that barely skims mid-thigh.

He's confident that she can't possibly be wearing anything resembling clothing underneath, and just the thought spikes his heart rate. She licks her lips-_is he having a heart attack? is that what this feels like?_-, canting forward just enough that he can feel her hot breath on his cheek. The movement slips the coat open at the hemline, revealing another few inches of gloriously bare skin. And that's _it_, he can't even think anymore, let alone breathe, so he stares at her dumbly, overwhelmed and barely restrained and _fuck, he's _definitely _had_ _this dream before._

She shifts in her ambitiously high heels, splays her legs apart in a wide open, confident stance that just makes him want to reach out and touch her: run his hand up the inside of her thigh-up, up, _up-_until he can feel just how ready she is, how much she _wants him_ that she's standing there on his doorstep in one flimsy scrap of clothing after a torturously long week.

And she's standing there like a present, hands tucked away in her front pockets, everything held together by a thin belt that might as well be a bow and buttons that look about as flimsy as a piece of tape. All he wants is to rip that damned coat off and devour her until she's as speechless as he is.

"Gonna invite me in, Castle?" she breathes into his ear as he gulps for air. He feels it trail down his neck, eliciting a deep shudder that curls his toes and propels his body closer to hers.

He groans out a response, his stomach coiling as he feels himself respond to her nearness. She starts to laugh at his inability to speak, too pleased with herself, but it dies on her lips as he grabs her roughly by her belt and hauls her body into his. She's thrown off-course, her body crashing inelegantly into his until she's molded to his side.

His mouth is on hers in an instant, all hurried tongues and teeth, like he can't get close enough, can't get enough of her even as her whole length presses up against him. He curls a fist in her hair and runs the pad of his thumb down the line of her jaw to the pulse point at her neck. The feel of him, so solid and strong and wanting, is intoxicating.

She claws at his shirt, pulling it from his pants and mauling blindly at the buttons, as he drags her inside. They trip over each other in a hazardous line straight toward his bedroom as he gropes her through the rough fabric. He stops her just inside the door, pushes her up against the bookshelf, and lets his eyes roam her body hungrily.

She moves her hands toward the belt-too many barriers between them when _all_ she wants is his skin on hers-, but he grabs her wrists before she can pull the strap through its loop.

"No," he growls as he leans in to nip at her neck with his teeth. She squirms under him as her knees start to give and he slides his thigh between her legs in response, pressing into her tightly with her back flush against the shelves.

He trails his hands up her body until he can pull at the belt himself. He jerks the material roughly and she grinds into him as her body follows the exaggerated movement. The coat falls open just before the apex of her thighs and he can feel her arousal seeping into the fabric of his pants, gathering more and more as she continues to move her body slowly against him while he sets to work on the remaining buttons.

_Oh fuck, is she seriously not even wearing underwear? _

"Yes," she breathes and-_wait, did he say that out loud? Shit._

Her chest heaves as he brushes the coat from her shoulders and his hands trail reverently down her body, thumbs brushing across her nipples until she's arching into him. He bends to meet her, relishing in her surprised gasp as his mouth reaches her chest. She grinds herself harder against him at the contact and he barely holds back a groan at the feeling of her, wet and ready and nearly bringing herself off against his thigh.

She reaches out and cups him through his jeans, running her thumb down his constrained length until she tears herself away long enough to pop the top button and slide the zipper down. Her body hums in response to his readily apparent arousal and she reaches out her free hand to clutch at the shelf as his mouth closes around her breast, teeth scraping gently, dangerously across her sensitive skin.

A book clatters to the floor as she claws desperately for something to bring her back to reality, to keep her away from the edge she's quickly approaching. Another tilts perilously close to the edge, but he can't bring himself to care if the whole shelf comes down because he is _going_ to make Kate Beckett come as she stands here half-clothed in his doorway.

When she finally pulls him free, she releases a needy whimper that absolutely sets him ablaze. Because that noise, that need, is for _him_ and he will never, _ever_ get over it.

She rocks herself against him once more and then pushes at his thigh until he's pulling away from her. Before she can move away, he slips a hand underneath her, grinding his palm against her as he sinks two fingers into her wetness. She swears when he moves because he has her pinned to the spot with only his hand and when his fingers flex inside of her, rubbing against her in _just the right place,_ it makes her legs give out completely. She steadies herself until she finds the leverage to move against him and grinds herself down on him mercilessly, quickly. A sob escapes her lips as she moves and she's grabbing at anything she can get a hand on, fingers clenching with desire.

When he feels her push him away and her chest shifts from his wandering lips, he expects to feel her hot hands pushing him back toward the bed. So when she drops to her knees in front of him instead, he lets out a resounding, _"Fuck._"

She looks up at him with a wry grin, all dark eyes and long lashes and flushed skin as she grips him firmly.

"That's the idea," she sasses as she licks her upturned lips. He barely has time to _think_ of a retort before her mouth is on him, swallowing him down inch by glorious inch, the trench pooling limply around her.

After a few moments, she picks up a rhythm-her hands clutch at his hips, her tongue working expertly as her cheeks hollow against him. When she chances a look up at him, it takes all his willpower not to lose it. He has to catch himself against the door frame, leaning his head against his forearm as he tries desperately to keep from moving his hips any further. She hums at the slight intrusion, the vibration sending him even closer to the edge.

He buries a hand in her hair, holding it away from her face as he strokes her cheekbone with his thumb. Her movements slow minutely and it's only a matter of seconds before he pulls at her, has to whisper, "if you don't stop, Kate-"

She pulls away reluctantly, gives him a defiantly triumphant look, and asks, "If I don't stop _what_?"

He takes the opportunity to pull her to her feet, wrap a sinfully long leg around his hip, and ease himself slowly into her. He thrusts into her slowly, shallowly, until she starts to squirm, moaning in exasperation.

"Then we couldn't do _this_," he teases as he slides into her quickly, filling her up entirely. Her eyes slam shut as her mouth falls open on a panting breath. She grabs for his shoulder as he begins to move, pulling her other leg up to hook around him. He can feel the dig of her stilettos at his lower back spurring him into action. The angle changes when he pushes back in and he feels her nails dig into his skin as he brushes past a bundle of nerves. He grips her ass, kneading his hands into the flesh as a groan rips through his chest.

She lets out a quiet yelp and clutches at him when he takes a few stumbling, uncertain steps backward until his knees touch the mattress. She laughs when he stops and considers his next move, unwilling to break from her. "Didn't quite think that one through, did you, Casanova?"

He narrows his eyes, but gives her a little grin as he slaps her ass in retaliation. She arches into it and presses her heel into him in encouragement.

"I think I can mange," he says confidently. He drops her on the bed gently, following the lines of her body with his own until she's spread out before him and pinned to the mattress by his weight.

He kisses her-hard and desperate and completely overwhelmed by her, by how much he loves her. He sinks into her, pulling a gasp from her mouth as his fingers set to work on her clit. It's too gentle, too teasing, and not _at all_ what she needs, but he looks at her like he knows _exactly_ what he's doing. Like he knows exactly how to make her beg.

She squeezes around him, a warning too good-too fucking _perfect_-to ignore. He chases that feeling, pumping harder and faster than before while his thumb presses hard circles against her.

She arches forward until she's meeting him thrust for thrust-like she can't get close enough, can't have enough of him. Her heels dig into his ass and she pulls him closer. It forces his weight onto her, pushing him inside of her as far as he can go.

"Harder," she moans. He complies, thrusting roughly, sloppily in his need to satisfy her, but it's not quite right, the angle not enough for what she needs. He stops and she breathes a desperate, "No."

He chuckles into her ear and turns so that he's on his back with her legs bracketing his hips. She sinks down onto him and-_yes_-that's exactly what she needed, judging from the dark look on her face. She leans forward, catches herself with his outstretched hand, and moves in earnest-fast and breathless as she races toward her long-delayed finish.

She clutches her hand against his, their fingers entwined and knuckles turning white, and he thinks it's kind of poetic how their mutual strength keeps her going, keeps her upright and steady this whole time. He's a little overcome by it-_and no, those are most certainly _not_ tears forming in his eyes_-, so he pulls his free hand from her hip and brushes her hair behind her ear.

Her jaw is clenched, the vein in her forehead a little more pronounced as she works, determined to get there all on her own as she moves above him. It's beautiful, if not a little intimidating, so he swipes his thumb across her lip slowly. Her eyes flutter open as he does so and she feathers a kiss across the pad. Her eyes lock on to his, so soft and so open, and he feels it crashing inside his chest like a wave.

Her eyes gloss and her mouth falls open as she comes undone, shattering above him soundlessly. It's as quiet as she's ever been, pushed beyond the brink of expression. It's beautiful and it's sacred and it breaks him.

"I love you," he says when he's somewhat recovered. It comes out a little too rough, a little too heartbroken-almost like he's still not sure if she loves him back. Like he couldn't stop if he tried and it's killing him.

She pulls their still-joined hands to her chest, to the scar over her heart that's finally healed. She bends forward, her own free hand pressed against his heart, and kisses him tenderly, slowly.

"I love you, too," she whispers against his lips and it's amazing. It's four years and countless mistakes all made worth it in just a few words. It's _everything_.

"So," he starts after a moment as they disengage from one another, "not that I'm complaining-because I want to be very clear that I am doing the _opposite_ of complaining-but what's with the-"

He trails off, gestures to the doorway where her coat has been abandoned. She laughs against his chest and shrugs. "found it in my closet, thought it was worth a try."

He hums his approval and she lets a beat pass before she mumbles, "And I missed you."

He squeezes the arm he has wrapped around her, swallows past the urge to push, the urge to say too much, too soon. Instead, he kisses the crown of her head and laughingly replies, "I know the feeling."

She sighs in contentment, but the feeling is too heavy, the air between them thick with words and promises still left unspoken, willed away from the immediate future. He won't let it taint this moment. Won't let their looming future encroach on their very new present.

So, he strokes a hand down her side and asks, "How do I get a repeat performance?"

End.


End file.
